


With Words Unspoken

by FrancescaMonterone



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: Behind the Iron Curtain, Dubious Consent, F/F, F/M, Femslash, Memories
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-08
Updated: 2017-02-08
Packaged: 2018-09-22 22:14:29
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,598
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9627677
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FrancescaMonterone/pseuds/FrancescaMonterone
Summary: After the fall of the Soviet Union, Ivan's former satellite states have come to an unspoken agreement: What happened behind the Curtain, stays behind the Curtain. But some memories are harder to repress than others…





	

 

In the small hours of the night, when both dusk and dawn both seem too distant too be a real possibility, time feels like a heavy velvet drape. It wraps around the sleeper, caressing her in what seems like an embrace, but truly is a prison. It weighs upon those who lie waking, silent and grave and full of unbidden thoughts. Dream and death are never far apart.

She sat upright in the protective nest of blankets and pillows that was her bed, tangled and intertwined like the coils of her memory. Her black hair spilled over her shoulders, dull and dark against her naked skin. Her eyes were open, but they did not see.

Her lover slept an untroubled sleep, she felt his warmth at her side, but it did not comfort her. Not with the memories of old haunting her waking dreams, not with the echo of those silent, frozen nights breathing hoarfrost into her heart.

… _the night was cold enough to freeze to death, all life paralyzed, sleeping a white, moribund slumber with little hope of ever waking up again. The ice on the river sang to her, a deceptively familiar song of sweet, groaning agony. Sounds that had haunted her dreams for too many years. The song of the ice, the whistling of the wind, sharp and high-pitched. The river spread out in front of her, vast and dark and lazy with cold. Frost tried to settle on her brow, like a crown of diamonds and silver. She would not die of the cold, but the whispering wind filled her ears with empty promises of a painless, an easy death. Sleep child, sleep deep. Winter will take you away…_

Winter had not taken her away, not then, and not in any of the nights, the months, the years that followed. But in one of those frozen nights, it had sent one of its own champions for her.

 _She wore a coat of ermine, luxurious and soft, softer than clouds. It opened as she moved, revealing a sleek black dress and high leather boots that hugged her slender calves. A glitter of jewelry when she turned. The swish of her long hair, gleaming as the light caught it. Natalya, Winter's youngest child. Shield-maiden forged of ice and steel._  
She did not ask before she touched Elizaveta, but laughed when she flinched beneath the touch of cool, cunning fingers, caressing her face. As Ivan's sister, Ivan's favorite, Natalya had never learned to ask for what she wanted. She took it.  
Elizaveta had known for month that Natalya was watching her, had felt her intense, burning gaze on her back, following her around. What she wanted remained a mystery, but that she wanted something and would take it whenever it pleased her, was a certainty…

An involuntary shudder ran through her body as she remembered Natalya's touch, those cool fingers trailing down her cheek, pale and perfectly manicured. She could still feel that touch. The years had not eroded the memory.

_What happened behind the Curtain, stays behind the Curtain…_

Not the memories, though. Not this memory.

 _Elizaveta shrank back and Natalya laughed, melodious and merciless. She took a lock of Elizaveta's hair and curled it around her finger. "Little girl. So proud, and so afraid."_  
"Of you? Never."  
"Oh yes, you are." Natalya spoke Russian. Her voice was sweet and lilting. It did not fit her very well.  
She moved behind Elizaveta, sleek and sinuous, the whole length of her body pressed against Elizaveta's back. Her perfume was thick, flowery, numbing.  
"What do you want, Natalya?" Elizaveta choked out.  
"Me?" Natalya asked, her lips to close to Elizaveta's ear, her breath brushing warm across her skin. "Oh… everything. And you are going to give me everything, Elizaveta…"

She could still here her voice, like a shadow that had followed her across all the years. Sweet and lilting and powerful enough to make her shudder, still. Natalya had gotten her claws into her once, and she would never let her go. Never. Not in a decade, not in two, not in a century. Wherever Elizaveta went, Natalya would always go there with her. Such was the nature of the bond that bound them. Since that night…

_Elizaveta struggled in Natalya's grip, but to no avail. The other woman was strong, much stronger than she looked. Appearances could be deceiving. Natalya, blond, blue-eyed, perfect porcelain-doll like exterior, was one of the strongest living beings Elizaveta had ever met.  
"Do fight me, Elizaveta, dear, it's such fun," Natalya purred, wrapping herself around Elizaveta as they went down. The hardwood floor was just that – hard. Elizaveta hit her head and for a moment, her world grew black._

Natalya was cruel, cruel like her brother, but in a more subtle way. While Ivan liked to take his violent pleasures with the other nations under his dominion, with random humans, and sometimes even his own people, Natalya chose to toy. Like all cats, she knew that drawn out foreplay sweetened the kill. Her cruelty served a purpose. It was razor sharp steel wrapped into the softest, shiniest silk. It cut deep though. Decades later, Elizaveta felt its edge against her skin in the small hours of the night, cold sweat tinkling down her bare back.

 _She woke up, struggling against unfamiliar bindings. The ropes were sleek and silky, but they bound her just as tight as any other chain. She tried to scream, but no sound penetrated the silky gag Natalya had so expertly fixed in place. Still, Elizaveta screamed wordlessly, screamed out her rage, dark eyes placing. Natalya, sitting across from her naked to the waist, chuckled softly._  
"You don't like that, do you? Magyar princess, so wild, so feral. No one ever tamed you, no man, no woman and no empire. Oh, Roderich thought he did, but deep down, the embers of violent dissent were still smoldering, waiting for a breeze, a spark… well, don't worry, Liza. No one has ever tamed you, and I won't try. I like you this wild. I like your edge."  
Her finger trailed along Elizaveta's chin. She jerked her head to the side and struggled against her bindings. Natalya bent forward; her firm, heavy breasts swaying slightly with the movement. Her skin was pale as alabaster and in some places almost translucent. Elizaveta tried not to stare, but did. She could see blue veins beneath the ivory of Natalya's throat and at her wrists. Natalya's long hair flowed across her body like a river of molten electrum.  
She was nothing short of beautiful, but it was a fearsome beauty and there was nothing comforting to it.  
Elizaveta closed her eyes and felt Natalya's lips warm and soft against her neck…

She closed her eyes and tried to listen to the wind rustling in the trees outside in the yard. Poplars. There had been poplars in the meadow surrounding Ivan's dacha…  
Tall, slender trees, like limber girls dancing in the breeze. Like Natalya and her sister Ekaterina…

 _Natalya's tongue flicked out, trailing down her throat. Elizaveta's breath caught. She felt blood rushing in a hot surge towards her nether regions, and as a consequence, color rising to her cheeks. This was wrong. It was wrong to feel this way. She did not want any part of this, and yet her body betrayed her._  
Natalya's hands cupped her breasts, lifting them up, then she buried her face between them, pressing kisses to the soft, sensitive skin. Her teeth graced a nipple, and Elizaveta gasped soundlessly. She had given up all pretense of protest, too absorbed by what was happening to her, by what Natalya was doing to her. She was unwilling, but not unaffected.  
Natalya snaked an arm around her waist, holding her in place. Her other hand slid down Elizaveta's stomach, her fingers caressing her mons, combing through soft, dark hair and stroking her labia. Once more, Elizaveta thrashed against her bindings. She tried to kick Natalya, and failed. Curious, probing fingers stroked her, measured her and pushed inside her.  
Elizaveta despised herself for it, but her body betrayed her, throbbing with pleasure at Natalya's touch.  
"And now I got you all wet, didn't I?" Natalya breathed, sounding delighted. "Who knew? Proud Magyar princess, and prickly Austria's faithful spouse, trembling under my hands, begging me…"  
Elizaveta would have protested that she would never beg Natalya for anything, but she was still gagged, and anyway, in her present condition it seemed somewhat ridiculous.  
"He is such a little snob, such a prude, your husband. What would he say if he could see you like this?" Natalya taunted.

Elizaveta looked down at Roderich, slumbering peacefully while she herself agonized over her memories. What _would_ you say, my darling? Would you be appalled…?  
She shook her head in disgust. It still surprised her that Natalya had never told him. It would have been her ultimate triumph.

_Natalya continued to stroke her until Elizaveta shuddered against her, pleasure and shame mingling until they became one and the same. The nails of her other hand graced Elizaveta's back in the most subtle of threats. They dug in when Elizaveta came, leaving bloody scratch marks along her back. A last shudder ran through her, then she slumped back against her bindings. Natalya smiled down at her beatifically.  
"And now you are mine. Because you will never forget this, will you, Liza?"_

A last shudder ran through Elizaveta's body, an echo of pleasure and pain. Natalya's voice whispering in her ear, her smile following her across time…

No. She would never forget.


End file.
